Passion, Betrayal and Killer Highlights

by Kyra Davis

  “Taylor’s not very nice to her employees.” Erika stared at the now-closed doors of the elevator. “Can you believe Mr. Sawyer wants to reassign Bob’s office to someone else already?”

  Well, of course he did. Did she think Chalet was going to turn the office into some kind of shrine?

  “I’ve been instructed to have it cleared out ASAP. That’s why I wanted you to come in today.”

  “I figured it was something like that.” It had never occurred to me that the rush could be attributed to anything so mundane. I tried to squelch my disappointment by reminding myself that Taylor Blake might have made the trip worthwhile. “What did Bob think of Taylor?”

  I thought I saw Erika flinch. “They were close.”

  “How close?”

  “They worked in the same department, so they sort of formed a relationship.” Erika toyed with her tennis bracelet. “Bob had a great deal of admiration for her.”

  I got the feeling that Erika thought his admiration was misplaced. I bit my lip and tried to figure out the best way to pry. “Did you ever work with her directly?”

  “She and Bob worked together a lot, and since I worked for Bob, there was some crossover.” Erika shrugged. “She was so nice to Bob, I don’t think he really saw her for what she is.”

  “And what is that?”

  “Just another cutthroat opportunist with a pretty face,” Erika said as she tidied her cubicle. “She expected all of us to bow down to her just because she was the only female upper manager in the company. Then she’d bat her eyes a few times at Bob and he’d instantly become putty in her hands.”

  “Taylor doesn’t seem like the batting-eyes type.”

  “I’m just saying that she can be manipulative. And Bob’s so susceptible to female manipulations. Just look what that woman from the KKK did to him.”

  I considered correcting Erika about the KKK thing, but exposing her as a gullible twit when it was clear that she was already suffering from feelings of professional inferiority regarding Taylor didn’t seem like a kind thing to do. I crossed my legs and leaned back in the chair. “So where’s Bob’s stuff?”

  Erika bent down and retrieved a shoe box from under her desk. I peered inside to see a collection of fountain pens, dry cleaning receipts and other miscellaneous trash. I shifted the contents around, hoping that there might be a floppy disk hiding under one of Bob’s outdated parking passes. Nothin’ doin’. I withdrew my hand with a heavy sigh.

  “This is it?”

  “The police took a lot,” Erika explained. “There’s also this.” She opened the top drawer to her desk and pulled out a framed picture of Bob, Leah and Jack. “I kept it separate from the other things because I know how special that photo was to both Bob and Leah.”

  “My God, who picked out this frame?” I asked as I reached for the bright gold frame that was adorned with gaudy silver stars.

  “I’m not sure but I suspect the frame was a gift from her.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Bianca gave him a framed photo featuring him with his wife and son?”

  “I think Bob’s the one who put the picture in.” She tilted her head to the side so she could see the photo in my hand. “It is a good picture. Bob was so incredibly photogenic.”

  I examined the photo, and saw none of the “good” Erika pictured. Jack was clearly seconds away from a screaming fit, Bob looked bored out of his mind, and Leah looked like she was suffering from gastric intestinal distress.

  “Bob used to keep that photo right on the corner of his desk so he could gaze at it all day long. Maybe Leah could put it in a different frame.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Bob gazed at this?”

  Erika blinked a few times as if trying to stave off tears. “I’ve really grown to care for Leah, although I haven’t been a very good friend to her. She always treated me like family—like a sister really.”

  I put the frame in the box without comment. If Leah really had treated her like a sister, Erika wouldn’t love her so much.

  “The night…that horrible night, Leah called me—she left a message saying that she was coming over to see me.”

  “I remember. She was at my apartment when she placed the call. She said you weren’t home when she got there.”

  “I was house-sitting for Dora, my neighbor—actually I was cat-sitting, since that’s really why she wanted me there. I was just curled up on Dora’s couch drinking her port, trying to lose myself in a Nora Roberts novel, and all the while Leah was waiting in front of my house a few doors down. If I had looked out the front window and seen her car I could have talked to her. Everything could have worked out differently.”

  I gritted my teeth. “Leah didn’t kill Bob.”

  “I know she didn’t,” Erika said quietly. “The more I think about it the more I know she would never do anything like that. She loved Bob as much as—” Erika flushed and looked away “—Cleopatra loved Anthony.”

  “Right,” I said slowly. I made a mental note to keep Leah away from snakes for a while.

  “But if I had been there, Leah might not have been the one to…to find him. And I could have vouched for her whereabouts.”

  I nodded. “That would have been nice.”

  “And Bob.” Erika looked down at her desk. “I miss him horribly. I know he made some mistakes, but he really was—”

  “A good person, yeah, you told me.” I tucked the shoe box under one arm and stood up. “If there isn’t anything else, I should get going.”

  “No, nothing else.” Erika didn’t leave her seat. She was probably reliving some memory in which Bob lovingly asked her to take dictation. I sighed and left her to her thoughts. What was it that these people had seen in Bob that I hadn’t? It was like me and The Bachelor, I suppose. Everyone I knew loved that show, and for the life of me I couldn’t figure out what the big deal was. Maybe I was the weird one. I mean, if even a woman like Taylor Blake could be pulled in by Bob’s charms, then obviously he must have had a few attributes. While in the elevator I once again examined Bob’s expression in the family photo. He looked about as engaged as a swinger at a Tupperware party. If this is what passed for a good catch these days I’d happily stick to my cat.

  It wasn’t until I found a parking spot—a mere five blocks away from my apartment—that it occurred to me that Anatoly hadn’t called to tell me about his chat with the police. I tried calling him while strolling home but I was only able to reach his voice mail. I hung up without bothering to leave a message. The SOB was obviously screening his calls. That was it. Going forward I was no longer going to be attracted to him.

  When I got home I expected to find Leah and Jack but when I walked in, the first person I saw was Mama. She was sitting on my couch, her nose pressed against Jack’s, who had his tiny hands tangled in her halo of white frizzy hair. I was immediately filled with a familiar mixture of affection and trepidation. “Mama, what are you doing here?”

  “This is how you greet the woman who gave birth to you?”

  “I’m sorry, it’s been a long couple of days.” I leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Mama sat back and admired me. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you I’ve forgotten what you look like,” she said.

  I had seen my mother less than two weeks ago but I let the comment pass. “I heard you on the radio the other day,” I said while moving to pet Mr. Katz who was huddled up in the corner. “You gave quite an interview.”

  “This man from the station called me up and said he wanted me to be a guest on his show,” Mama said as she gently stopped Jack from ripping her thick gold necklace off of her. Mr. Katz glared at them. He had always liked Mama but I think he was beginning to understand that he was not the favorite grandchild.

  “He said I could tell people what a nice girl my Leah is so of course I said I would do it,” Mama continued. “So now I’m a bigshot radio star.” She gave me an exaggerated wink. “You didn’t expect that, did you, mumala?”

  “Can’t say that I did.�
� I sat down next to her thus using her as a physical buffer against my nephew. “Where is everybody?”

  As if in response to my question there was the distant sound of a toilet flushing. In a moment Mary Ann came out, looking beautiful and fresh as ever. “Hi, Sophie! Isn’t it great that your mom stopped by? We’ve been hanging out for the last hour!” She went into the kitchen and opened the freezer. “I picked up a pint of Häagen-Dazs earlier, want some?”

  “What flavor?” I asked.

  “Strawberry cheesecake.”

  “I’ll pass,” I said, secretly grateful that Mary Ann had chosen the only flavor I could easily resist.

  “How ’bout you, Mrs. K.?” Mary Ann was the only one of my friends who called Mama that. Most of my friends subscribed to the Californian philosophy that the only people who should be referred to by their last names were those who had the power to flunk you or incarcerate you. Marcus was one of the few people I knew who took issue with that rule and insisted on calling Mama Mrs. Katz despite being invited to call her Esther; but that was probably because he was from the South. Mama had given up on correcting Marcus but as far as I knew she had never bothered to correct Mary Ann. I think she liked the novelty of the Mrs. K. thing.

  “No ice cream for me but I would like some tea if you don’t mind and maybe something to nosh on?” Mama gave me a quick once-over. “You should eat something, you’re too skinny.”

  Of all the backward compliments Mama consistently doled out the “too skinny” one was my favorite. I got up to help Mary Ann with the snacks. “So is Leah hiding in the bathroom, too?”

  “No,” Mary Ann said. “She called about a half hour ago to say she had some shopping to do and that she’d be back by six-thirty.”

  I checked the clock above the oven. It was already five-forty-five. “How’s her hair?”

  “I don’t know.” Mary Ann dug into her Häagen-Dazs with a soup spoon before tearing open a tea bag for Mama. “When I left her, Marcus was just getting started.”

  I felt the subtle flutter of nerves. “I thought you were going to stay with her at the salon.”

  “I was, but Jack got bored and he tried to dip his hand in a bowl full of bleach so I got him out of there. He’s actually been pretty good ever since.”

  I brought out a plate full of Egg and Onion Matzo and a prepackaged container of hummus to Mama and glanced down at Jack who was now ripping up my latest issue of Elle. “Mama, you’re letting Jack rip up my magazine.”

  Jack grinned up at me. “Jack ’ike to wip.”

  I narrowed my eyes. It was tempting to show him what the word “wip” really meant.

  “Let him have his fun,” Mama said, clearly amused. “I looked through that magazine and there’s nothing but pictures of skinny girls dressed up in fancy schmancy clothes. There was a bathing suit in there and you know what they wanted for it? Four hundred dollars! Who pays that kind of money for a piece of fabric that could fit in a wallet?” Mama shook her head. “Trust me, it’s better that you use it to keep Jack busy than waste your time reading such nonsense.”

  I gritted my teeth and went back for the tea.

  “Just put my drink in one of those little cups,” Mama called after me. “I’ll wait for Leah for a few more minutes and then get out of your hair. It’s not like you need three women to take care of one little baby.”

  “Yes we do!” I dropped the tea kettle back onto the stove and bolted to Mama’s side. “Jack needs you and Leah’s under a lot of stress right now.” I put my hand on my mother’s shoulder just in case she planned on bolting right away. “I really think it would help if you took Jack for the night. It’s been a while since you’ve done that, right? And I know you have extra clothes for him and that porta-crib thing, so it would be easy!”

  Mama looked uncertain.

  “Did I tell you he said a new word yesterday?” I asked, struggling to keep the desperation out of my voice.

  “Really?” Mama brightened. “So tell me the word already.”

  “Baba.”

  “Baba! He wanted his grandmother!”

  I nodded enthusiastically. “That’s what he said. ‘I want my Baba.’ It was his first grammatically correct sentence. And whenever he sees a lady with white curly hair on the street he cries. So I think we should ease his suffering and let him spend some time at your place, don’t you?”

  Mama laughed. “All right, I’ll take him but don’t think I don’t see what you’re up to. Jack doesn’t really cry when he sees little old ladies, does he? You’re just making up stories because you want some time away from little Jack, no?”

  I smiled sheepishly. “You got me.”

  “You and your elaborate stories and excuses,” she said again. “You’re lucky you don’t have a nose like Pinocchio. What would have happened if you had just asked me to take Jack home so you and Leah could get some rest. Would the world end if you told the truth once in a while?”

  “I do tell the truth…once in a while. I guess I just like to make up stories and excuses, too. I am an author after all.”

  “But when you start using those stories for your real life, that’s what gets you into trouble. Remember that time you offered to watch Brandon’s pet snake?”

  “Oh, come on, Mama, I was thirteen years old.”

  Mary Ann came out of the kitchen, still holding on to the pint of ice cream that she apparently planned to finish off herself. “Who’s Brandon?” she asked eagerly. “Did he go to high school with us?”

  “Brandon was my first real crush. His family moved to Oregon right after junior high graduation. You know, Mama, we don’t really need to tell this story.”

  “Even at thirteen my Sophie was a real beauty,” Mama continued, dismissing my objections. “And those brains of hers. Any boy would have been lucky to have her on his arm. But she had to get Brandon’s attention by making up stories. As soon as she found out he had a boa constrictor she went on and on about how much she loved snakes. She even told him that she planned on breeding them and raising little snake babies when she grew up!”

  Mary Ann’s eyes widened with horror. “You like snakes?”

  “I don’t hate them,” I said. Jack was now toddling over to my music collection. I quickly snatched him up before he could use my U2 CD as a Frisbee. “You want to mess with my stuff, Jack?” I asked sweetly. “Why don’t we find you something over here?” I went over to where I kept my old VHS tapes and checked to see if I had anything that I didn’t watch anymore.

  “No, Sophie isn’t so afraid of snakes, but I am and so is her sister,” Mama said, shaking her finger in my direction. “So you can imagine my reaction when she comes home with the boy’s snake and tells me that she’s going to be taking care of it while this Brandon and his family are off caravanning around Disneyland for the weekend. I let her know right away that there would not be any snakes in my house. What was I running, a zoo?”

  “The boa wasn’t even fully grown yet and he had his own enclosure!” I protested. I pulled out a yoga exercise video that I had bought with the best of intentions six years earlier but had never actually gotten around to putting in the VCR. “Here, why don’t you take this apart,” I said to Jack. I sat him on the ground and he quickly started unraveling the tape. Mr. Katz looked at him with alarm. Clearly he thought Jack was a lot scarier than a snake.

  My mama on the other hand didn’t seem bothered by Jack’s need to destroy and continued with her story. “It’s true what she says. The snake had a little Plexiglas home all his own. That’s why I said it would be okay for her to let him stay in the garage. But the snake wasn’t so happy about this and he made a run for it.”

  “But snakes can’t run,” Mary Ann said.

  “She means he got out,” I explained. “I fed the snake but I didn’t want to actually hang around and watch it eat.”

  “What did it eat?” Mary Ann asked, although by her tone I wasn’t at all sure she really wanted to know.

  “He ate mice,” I said.
“Very cute, very alive mice.”

  “Oh!” Mary Ann put her hand over her mouth and looked away.

  “I know,” I said, “so I just dropped the mouse in, dropped the lid back on the enclosure and hightailed it into the house. But here’s the thing…I didn’t take the time to make sure that the lid was really closed.”

  “It was a real to-do,” Mama said, clearly amused by the memory. “All weekend I walked around wearing three pairs of socks so that I wouldn’t get snake bites on my ankles.”

  “Boas don’t bite, Mama,” I said. “But it was a ‘to-do.’ Mama wasn’t the only one who was upset, Leah was beside herself. She sat up awake all night that Friday and Saturday with all her lights on clutching a pair of Dad’s old shoes that she planned to throw at the boa if he should make an appearance. And of course I was freaked out about how I was going to explain everything to Brandon when he got back.” I shook my head. “To make matters worse our neighbor had this little shih tzu and I was sure that it was only a matter of time before he became snake-lunch.”

  “Finally this Brandon character shows up with his mother, all ready to take their pet home,” Mama said with a giggle. “I told Sophie she was going to have to tell them. I watched her greet them at the door and I thought she was going to cry, and as you know it takes a lot to make my Sophie cry.”

  Mary Ann looked at me sympathetically. “You must have felt terrible. How did they take it?”

  “There was nothing to take!” I plopped down next to Mama and leaned back into the cushions. “I was all ready to confess when I hear Leah clearing her throat behind me and there she was, holding the enclosure with the boa safely inside. You could tell she didn’t want to be holding it because she looked like she was going to throw up any second, but she held it nonetheless. She had spotted the boa in the garage next to her bike just moments before, and rather than force me to admit my failure to my current heartthrob she mustered up all her courage and put the animal back in it’s enclosure so we could give it back to Brandon without his ever being the wiser.”